


Like A Tattoo

by ratedgrandr



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Tattoos, cute boyfriend tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratedgrandr/pseuds/ratedgrandr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stupid cute boyfriends with stupid cute tattoos that is all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Tattoo

Grantaire notices the brown sack sitting on the counter about five minutes after Combeferre walks out the door. And at that point, it’s too late. He’s already watched his boyfriend’s beat up camry pull out of the drive, and thanks to a bit of distraction this morning before climbing out of bed, he’s already made the Doctor a good ten minutes late. He could call him, tell him he forgot his lunch and that he needs to turn around and pick it up, but Grantaire has to be into the shop by noon and the hospital is on the way. He might as well just take it himself.

So he sends Combeferre a quick text, letting him know that he will safely deliver the lunch in question before it’s even noticed as missing. He’s not surprised by the one worded thanks he gets in response, nor is he offended. Combeferre is constantly busy and work, as well as consistently riding a stressful high, one that he is good enough at dealing at, but occasionally leaves him distant towards distractions.

Thus the early morning romp to take his mind off of things, to ‘destress’ him, Grantaire had said. Obviously said stress has caught right back up with the Doctor.

Grantaire prepares himself for the day quickly, showering, drinking another three cups of coffee, scanning over the paper. It’s normal routine by now, and has been for the past year. Every morning he wakes up with Combeferre, fixes him breakfast, kisses him at the door and sees him off to work before getting himself ready. Living together wasn’t an ideal situation at first, if only because they were both so hesitant in their relationship, both waiting for the other to snap, both unsure and tentative and not positive of how this should go. But once they reached their breaking point (it had been in the fall; Grantaire had come in drunk and told Combeferre he couldn’t tip toe around anymore, that they either dove all the way in or just backed down completely) they were much happier.

And truly, Grantaire is thankful for semblance in his life. He’s thankful for simplicity and easiness and feeling worthy. He’s glad that every night he curls up with the same man and every morning he wakes to small, sweet kisses peppered along his skin. If this isn’t the good life, then he’s honestly not sure what is.

The forgotten brown sack is grabbed as Grantaire heads for the door, and his messenger bag, which contains sketches and paints, an ipad and other irrelevant items that Grantaire insists on bringing to work with him every day. He’s dressed simply, the usual v-neck and jeans, a cardigan tossed over his shoulder in case it gets chilly, and isn’t thinking much about it as he slides into his own car and starts for the hospital.

The drive is short, and soon he’s parking in a visitor’s spot without really thinking on it. He’s only been inside of these walls one time, and that was when he was admitted for alcohol poisoning a few years back. R doesn’t much like hospitals; the walls are dull and dreary, everyone seems somber, and it always has that tangy, bleachy kind of smell that is uniquely it’s own. But Combeferre has been working here going on seven months now, has gained himself something of a reputation, and while R doesn’t quite know the protocol for visiting your Doctor boyfriend at work, he knows that he can always just text the other man if need be.

As soon as he steps foot into the building, though, Grantaire feels obvious eyes upon him and immediately his shoulders round a bit as he stuffs his free hand into his pocket. His own self image is something Grantaire still battles with to this day, though Combeferre has helped him feel better about himself in many ways. Even so, he can feel the secretary’s eyes roam across his colorful skin, follow the intricate designs and black lines that stain him with obvious disdain. Tattoos are stereotyped so frequently and R isn’t surprised by their inquisitive stares.

“Can I help you?” The woman’s voice is sickeningly sweet, and Grantaire can’t help his nose from wrinkling slightly.

“I’m here to see, uh, Doctor Combeferre?” Grantaire asks as he scratches at the back of his neck.

The three nurses behind the desk eye him suspiciously, as if he’s going to kick out their legs and take their wallets, and it takes everything in him not to roll his eyes. “You’re an old patient?” one nurse asks hesitantly.

Grantaire shakes his head. “Personal visit,” he states as he squares off his shoulders.

“He will be out shortly, then,” the secretary snips as she gestures towards the cheap plastic seats in the waiting area. “You can have a seat while you wait,” she informs him almost snippily. R nods, his brow slightly furrowed as he turns on his heel and takes a chair, eyes fixed on his hands (which are also marked with colorful tattoos) as he waits, foot tapping idly.

It’s about five minutes before Grantaire hears his name, the tone surprised but pleasantly pleased. He looks up, a wide grin on his face as he stands, and grabs the brown paper bag from inside of his messenger bag as Combeferre extends his hand. “You really didn’t have to do this, I could have eaten in the cafeteria,” Ferre laughs lightly and R grins and shrugs.

“Hey, I worked hard on that peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he teases as he straightens out Combeferre’s tie with gentle fingers. He can see from the corner of his eye the nurses all huddled together, watching curiously, and he can’t help the lack of professionalism in his next move. With sure fingers Grantaire tugs Combeferre closer by his tie, kissing him soundly on the lips, causing one of the nurses to let out a frustrated kind of sound. Combeferre lets out a small noise, something between surprise and approval, and returns the kiss before breaking it, cheeks flushed, glasses slightly askew, and a hand running through his hair. “I love you, baby,” R says, making sure it’s loud enough for the women behind the desk to hear.

“I love you too, Taire,” Combeferre sighs, slight laughter in his tone as he turns to retreat back into the bowels of the hospital.

\---

Grantaire’s visits to the hosptial become more frequent after the first, if only because the nurses really got under his skin the first time. And each time Combeferre finds himself a bit shocked and slightly offended with the rudeness with which they find it necessary to treat his boyfriend.

After a particularly bad visit where one lady, Linda, insisted upon telling Grantaire that visitors aren't allowed past the lobby, Combeferre finds himself feeling extremely stressed and frustrated as he leaves work and heads towards the tattoo shop to pick up Grantaire (his car was in the shop).

When he enters he’s greeted with friendly waves and hellos, and a few of the other artists ask how Combeferre is doing today. After minor conversation with a large man covered head to toe in ink, Combeferre slides into Grantaire’s small cubicle and sighs. He can see the hurt and frustration on Grantaire’s face even before he seats himself in his boyfriend’s chair, and leans in to attempt to kiss the other man’s worries away.

“It’s just not fair,” Grantaire exhales as he cleans up his station. “I see other doctors and nurses boyfriends and girlfriends back there all the time,” he points out as he sits back, a frown still on his face.

Combeferre gently rubs Grantaire’s shoulders and kisses his neck carefully. “I’ve been thinking… maybe I should get a tattoo,” the Doctor hums.

Grantaire’s brows arch as he smirks slightly. “Really?” He asks excitedly. He’s talked about wanting to tattoo Combeferre for a while now, but obviously wouldn’t do it without his boyfriend’s consent. Combeferre nods once, smirking, and starts to unbutton his shirt as he leans back in the chair.

“I think we can definitely come up with something, then,” Grantaire murmurs as he reassembles his gun and pulls on a pair of gloves.

\---

All the nurses are sitting around their stand chattering on when they see it: the black and red ink staining the skin of Doctor Combeferre’s chest, directly over his heart. The lines are angled like those often seen on a heart monitor, connected to an uppercase R which is filled in red. And their eyes widen slightly as the Doctor slides out of his lab coat and into his winter coat, tie loosened around his neck, top few buttons of his shirt undone.

“Is that… is that a tattoo?” One of the nurses asks as she leans forward a bit to get a better look.

The Doctor smirks slightly and nods, unbuttoning one more button to show off the new ink branded on his chest. “Yeah, Grantaire did it. I’ve always wanted to do something to show how much I love him and he’s still kind of leery about the whole marriage thing so I figured why not?” Combeferre buttons his shirt back up and shrugs. “Have a good rest of the day ladies,” he hums as he smirks and turns on his heel, rather positive the women won’t be giving Grantaire a hard time ever again.


End file.
